


eight gifts for juliet

by orphan_account



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Birthday Presents, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4494939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliet's sixteenth birthday is one of change; whether she wants to admit it to herself or not. But at least for one night she is able to be at peace with herself and the life she leads; surely change can't really be a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eight gifts for juliet

_**1\. a book of poetry / rosa** _

Juliet opened her eyes to the feeling of something gently tickling her lips. She brushed at it sleepily with her hand, in no way ready to be torn from her sleep just yet; briefly. The feeling ceased- just to promptly start up again a moment later. Groaning, Juliet tried to turn on her side, but hands on her shoulders prevented her from doing so; and at last, her eyes opened a crack. As soon as they did she immediately found herself accosted by red. Red, intense red, even more intense than the normal colors that decorated the Capulet mansion. There was only one person she could think of who had hair that distinctive. Slowly, Juliet pushed herself into a sitting position only to be promptly ambushed by one of her closest friends.

“Happy birthday, darling cousin.” Throwing her arms around her shoulders Rosaline wrapped Juliet up into a tight embrace, pressing what felt distinctly like a book into her chest as she did so. When the red haired girl pulled back, a rare grin on her face, Juliet looked down at the book in her arms in mild surprise.

“A poem book?” she murmured, and when she raised her head again her eyes were bright despite her sleepiness. “Rosa!”

“They’re in English,” Rosaline informed her proudly, crossing her arms. Juliet quickly thumbed through the volume- one she actually didn’t have, and by one of her favorite English authors, which delighted her to no end- before she gave her cousin a wide, beaming smile.

“Oh, Rosa, I love it! Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me,” Rosaline replied, straightening up and shaking her head. The pearls in her hair had gone lopsided, so as Juliet rose from her bed she helpfully straightened them out for her; in thanks, Rosaline picked up Juliet’s dress from the back of her chair and extended it to her.

“Your birthday dress is lovely,” she remarked, referring to the white lace and chiffon that Lady Capulet had taken the pains to pick out last night. Juliet hummed, holding the dress up in front of the mirror and spinning around; it didn’t look bad on her, certainly. To the contrary, she thought as she slipped out of her nightgown and pulled the dress on over her head, it looked quite nice; but her hair was a downright bird’s nest.

As if reading her thoughts, Rosaline appeared in the mirror behind her, running her long fingers through Juliet’s dark locks. “I can braid your hair,” she suggested, and a frown passed over Juliet’s face.

“Where’s Nurse?” Not only was it Nurse who usually woke her each day, Nurse was _always_ in charge of her hair. For her to be absent on today of all days- Juliet’s birthday- was downright bizarre.

“Nurse,” Rosaline said, beginning to smooth out all of the tangles with deftly skilled hands, “is taking the day off today.”

“On today, of any other day?” Juliet was scandalized. 

“Indeed. Apparently she has something she’s working on, and simply must finish by today. She told me herself.”

Juliet made a quiet sound of displeasure, moving with Rosaline to sit on the bed; she could tell from the look on her friend’s face that this was sure to take a while. Rosaline always took such good care of her long, smooth auburn locks; she had some of the silkiest hair Juliet had ever seen. If there was anyone she’d trust with her hair besides her nurse, it would be Rosa. But still… “Sometimes I feel as if I forget that Nurse is a real person, with her own life just like us.”

“She doesn’t have much of a life outside of you,” replied Rosa. “You’re her pride and joy.”

She wasn’t telling Juliet anything she didn’t already know, but the words still struck a chord in her anyway; perhaps it was the blunt was it was said, or perhaps it was simply the fact that today marked her sixteenth year on earth, but Juliet suddenly found herself alarmingly close to tears.

She swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to nod her head at the risk of Rosaline’s ire. “I know that, of course,” she said softly. “I only wish my parents felt the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Rosa.” Juliet’s spine was slowly beginning to relax; and she couldn’t totally fight off the melancholy that threatened to creep up on her, like a sickly black shadow over a day of pure light. “I’m sixteen years old, and my parents still see me as a child- if they see me at all.” She let out a sigh. “Just once,” Juliet murmured, “I’d like to have my parents change the way they look at me. That would be the greatest gift I could receive today.”

Rosaline’s only reply was a hum, and a soft request for Juliet to tilt her head to the left. Wordlessly, lost in the thoughts that swirled in her own mind, Juliet obliged.

_**2\. a pair of shoes / father** _

By the time Juliet’s hair was finally braided and she was dressed to greet the day, breakfast was nearly ready; she and Rosaline hastened down the long winding staircase of the Capulet mansion, nearly tripping more than once in their haste to get downstairs and avoid the disapproving gazes of their parents.

The girls entered the parlor just in time to find Juliet’s father standing near the window, a sizeable white box gripped in his hands. “Ah,” he said, catching notice of the arrival of his daughter. “If it isn’t my summer rose!”

Juliet grinned, wrapping her arms around her father and allowing the man to hold her to his chest for a few precious seconds. “Good morning, Father.”

“But a better morning to you- sixteen at last.” Lord Capulet brushed his daughter’s braid back, a fond smile on his face. “And growing lovelier by the day, I worry. Yet still so pale…”

Juliet made a face and Lord Capulet laughed; the box he held in his hands was once more drawn to Juliet’s attention as her father held it out to her. “Perhaps some more exercise would be good for you? I think these ought to get you moving...”

Unable to restrain her curiosity, Juliet eagerly tore into the box casting aside to top and the tissue paper within to reveal a stunning set of brand new shoes; gleaming golden satin, with shiny black heels encrusted with tiny white gems. A small silk flower with a diamond in the center found it’s place on the crown of the shoe; Juliet’s eyes slowly widened as she took them in. At the nudge of encouragement from her father she bent down, discarded her old shoes to the side, and slipped the new pair on her feet.

“Oh- they’re a perfect fit,” she exclaimed, smile widening in delight. “Father, how?”

“I had Nurse give me your measurements,” Lord Capulet replied, and looking at his pretty daughter his eyes glowed with pride. “You must have comfortable shoes; if you’re going to dance tonight, then you must wear only the very best.”

“Tonight.” Juliet’s grin widened, her face shining with excitement. “My ball is tonight, isn’t it? Oh father, you have invited everyone, haven’t you? I must talk to Nurse about which dress she thinks is best, the pink or the purple, and I _have_ to see that Tybalt is going to come to this one without sulking, it is my birthday after all- oh, perhaps I should check on the servants as well? They might need help setting up, and I _would_ like to be in charge of everything-”

“Daughter, daughter,” Lord Capulet interrupted, holding up his hands; Juliet cut off her stream of words abruptly, realizing just how ahead of herself she had gotten in her excitement. Her face flushed slightly in embarrassment; she wasn't used to speaking so animatedly to her father like that.

“You’re right,” she nodded, picking up her old shoes as well as the box and paper from the ground; placing her gift back in it’s proper box, she looked up at her father and smiled. “Tonight I’ll dance better than anyone, because I’ll have the loveliest shoes.” Her head turned, intent on showing her cousin just how lovely the gift was; but at some point Rosaline seemed to have slipped away. Juliet raised her eyebrows, wondering where on earth she could have gotten off to- now she would have no choice but to follow after her.

“I’m more than happy that my gift pleases you,” said Lord Capulet, and Juliet’s eyes were drawn back to her father again. Smiling widely, she hugged him once more.

“They’re lovely, father,” she whispered, and a part of her wondered just why she felt so warm inside at her father’s too-rare, affectionate embrace. “Thank you.”

_**3\. a pair of hand-knit gloves / nurse** _

Following a quiet family breakfast (her mother hadn’t come down from her chambers yet, Tybalt seemed even more sullen than usual, and between Juliet’s cousin and father she knew no conversation would pass) the majority of her day was spent with Rosaline and her dress servants, preparing her for the dance that night.

A party had been thrown every year on the anniversary of Juliet’s birthday; Juliet Capulet’s party was always one of the highlights of Verona’s social season, and Juliet adored every ball that her parents held for her. This year, she intended to dance every last one of the dances; her brand new shoes would ensure her comfort, and hopefully keep her from tiring out as she tended to do each year.

Juliet always liked to think of getting ready for the party as being nearly as exciting as the party itself. Getting ready meant an endless parade of gossip, testing out makeup, trying on dress after dress to find just the right fit for the occasion. Nurse was normally by her side constantly to keep her occupied; but her day of leave left her suspiciously absent. Rosa made every attempt to fill the old woman’s place, but her cousin was far from a natural conversationalist. By the time her hair had been fixed, once again, into an intricate braid, and her dress- a long, flowing violet silk gown with a light pink bodice and a decoration of pale flowers embroidered along the neckline that stopped shortly after her collarbone- donned, Juliet found herself frightfully missing her nurse.

When the door opened, Juliet’s first instinct was to turn and look- just before Rosa could apply her lipstick, nearly leaving a long smudge of makeup along the Capulet girl’s face. As Rosa exclaimed in surprise, Juliet did so as well- but for entirely different reasons. Her nurse had just walked into the room.

“Oh, my lady!” exclaimed the Nurse, pressing a hand to her heart as she took in the appearance of her young charge. “Juliet, you look beautiful!”

“Thank you.” Juliet accepted the compliment graciously, resisting the urge to get up and embrace the woman- in spite of her affectionate mood, Rosaline was still pulling on her to allow her to do her makeup. Reluctantly, Juliet obliged her cousin’s wishes; her eyes followed the older woman as she made her way around the proceedings and laid something down on Juliet’s bed.

“Hang on,” Juliet exclaimed as soon as her lips were free again. “What was that?”

“Just something for you,” the Nurse replied, “when you aren’t so busy.”

“I’m not so busy. Let me see.”

With a sigh that seemed to suggest Juliet had just asked her to scale the Great Wall of China, Nurse leaned over again and picked up the present she would have left for Juliet. The girl’s eyes widened as they took in the fragile-looking pair of fingerless gloves, hand-knit with a fine silver fabric, that rested in the woman’s weathered palms.

“Nurse…” Juliet reached out, her fingers trailing over the silky material. “This is where you’ve been all this time?”

“I had to add the finishing touches,” replied the woman, her eyes glowing with affection at the sight of young Juliet so clearly happy. “I made a pair for Susan, too… but my little daughter can no longer enjoy the stuff of earth, as I well know.”

Juliet gave her Nurse a soft smile, taking the gloves from her and slipping them over her hands. They felt as light and smooth as if she were wearing nothing at all; the craftsmanship was genuinely impressive. “I’m sure Susan would have loved them as much as I do,” she said softly, and then tilted her head up with a wide grin. “I can wear them tonight!”

“Tonight?” exclaimed Rosaline. “But you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Ruin my outfit?” echoed Juliet. “Rosaline, these gloves are perhaps the finest I’ve ever worn! To anyone I dance with, it will feel as if I am wearing the silk spun from fairies. I won’t ruin my outfit, I’ll only enchant it even more!” _Besides,_ she thought, though she didn’t vocalize this out loud, _if Tybalt is allowed to wear his silly old leather gloves everywhere he goes then surely I can as well._

A sigh from the Nurse drew Juliet’s attention back to her; the old woman cupped Juliet’s face in her hand, and the girl was alarmed to see tears gleaming in her beloved companion’s crystal eyes.

“So old…” murmured the Nurse, “and yet still so good. I pray you never lose your goodness, my darling Juliet.”

And then, with a soft kiss upon the tip of Juliet’s nose that made the girl giggle, the Nurse disappeared behind her once again. “Now… how about I braid some flowers in your hair?”

_**4\. her / tybalt** _

The ball that night was fantastic. Lilting music sent fine ladies in a rainbow of multicolored gowns spinning and prancing around the Capulet ballroom, while their partners with their pressed suits and coiffed hair followed along after them, catching the women in their arms before twirling them once more. Juliet, true to her promise to herself, danced each round; even with songs she wasn’t as fond of, as long as she had an entertaining partner (most of them cousins or uncles, men she knew just well enough to be familiar with) she could dance forever.

Her mother, in her fine gown of deep red damask with gold trimmings, stood on the balcony overlooking the crowd below; every so often she would accept an offer from some brave man to dance, but mostly she simply stood by the side of her husband and nephew. Lord Capulet didn’t dance because his knees couldn’t afford it; instead, he drank. His eyes followed the women spinning around the room, while Lady Capulet’s eyes likewise trailed the men. Tybalt, too, had his intense gaze focused on the crowd; in his usual shadowing spot upon the balcony alongside his aunt and uncle, his eyes alternated between surveying the guests and following Juliet as she twirled around the room.

When Juliet spun around only to come face to face with the black-and-silver-clad figure of her cousin, her face broke into a small grin. “I was waiting for you,” she remarked, gently taking Tybalt’s hands in hers and starting to move in time with the waltz which had just begun to play. “I haven’t seen you all day. It was _awfully_ rude of you not to come wish me a happy birthday, you know.”

Tybalt looked stiff, uncomfortable; he had never been the smoothest dancer. He saved his dances for Juliet alone, perhaps excepting his aunt and the Nurse if either woman requested him. “I was… otherwise occupied.”

“On my birthday? Tybalt, you could almost make me cry.”

“Please don’t.” Tybalt could tell that Juliet was only speaking in jest, but he played along anyway. “Seeing you cry should be my greatest and only agony.”

“You’d be that badly wounded over my tears?” Juliet raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “My dear cousin, you care too much.”

“And you too little for my own delicate sensibilities,” Tybalt retorted before promptly spinning Juliet around; the girl, not having expected it, was nearly taken off of her feet and only caught by Tybalt’s quick arm. She straightened back up, giggling, her teasing demeanor fading into one of delight.

“Really Tyb,” she chided, allowing her cousin to pull her closer. “I wanted to see you today. Rosaline gave me a book of poetry, Nurse knitted these gloves for me- aren’t they beautiful? And Father got me these lovely shoes, do you see them? Oh, I could dance all night in these!”

“They fit your feet as if they were made for them,” Tybalt replied, and an unsettled look flickered over his face for a fraction of a second before he quickly banished it away. It didn’t, however, go past Juliet’s keen notice; the girl frowned, tilting her head at her cousin.

“You’re troubled,” she observed. “By what?”

The dark haired boy shook his head, promptly twirling his cousin again in an obvious effort to dodge the question presented to him; Juliet, however, was not so easily led astray. After regaining her feet she promptly caught her cousin with an arm around his neck, twirling him with her across the dance floor. Tybalt, paralyzed by the sudden close proximity, had an expression of amusing surprise on his face as Juliet slowly dipped him backwards.

With her cousin on an incline, supported only by the strength of his legs and her hand on his back, she leaned down very close to his face.

_“Tell. Me,”_ she hissed, before swiftly swinging him back up again.

Once back on his feet, Tybalt seemed to regain his wits, and with them his dour humor; he turned away, brushing Juliet off of his arm. “It’s nothing,” he replied shortly. “It was a bad idea anyway.”

“Tybalt-” Juliet called, attempting to reach out towards her cousin.

“This dance is done.” He pointed to the conductor, who had led the band into silence and was now flipping through his books for the next tune to play. Dismayed, Juliet’s face fell; a few seconds later it set in determination, and she hastened after her cousin. 

“Tybalt!” she exclaimed, managing to get a hold on his sleeve. “Wait!”

“What _is it,_ Juliet?” Tybalt had that tone to his voice; the one he always employed to let someone know that he wanted to be alone. Juliet didn’t understand. How could she have so easily upset her temperamental cousin, just by showing him her shoes?

Whatever Tybalt’s problem was, she was determined to figure it out. She would not let her cousin walk away from her so easily. Patiently, she waited until her cousin had turned to meet her eye again, and she smiled. “I’m not finished with you yet,” she replied. “I want to dance another with you. You’ll oblige me, won’t you? It is my birthday, after all…”

There was the golden argument; Tybalt couldn’t say no to her on her birthday of all days, and he knew it. The Capulet boy ground his teeth, a horrible habit that Juliet had half the mind to smack him on the arm for; but he took her hands anyway as the band started up another lilting number.

Juliet beamed. “Oh, I like this song.”

“Me too,” replied Tybalt flatly.

“I like your shirt as well. It’s new, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“And you’ve even worn your gloves again. Isn’t that nice? Now with mine it looks like we have a matching set.”

“How quaint.”

Juliet’s smile, which had been stubbornly fixed on her face, gradually began to fade. This line of conversation was taking them both nowhere, and Tybalt was being as bull-headed as ever. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t getting discouraged, but her heart was beginning to sink; the last thing she wanted was for Tybalt to be unhappy on her birthday of all days. Oh, why couldn’t things just be simple?

She let out a heavy sigh, visibly deflating. If she managed to provoke anything, it was her cousin’s guilty conscience; Tybalt’s frown deepened, a hint of regret sneaking its way onto his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, and Juliet looked up in surprise.

“Tybalt.”

A long silence followed with neither one of them quite sure what to say; and then, out of the blue, Juliet spoke up once more. “What did you get me for my birthday?”

The muscles in Tybalt’s shoulders tensed; his eyes drifted towards the ground, and all at once it dawned on Juliet that this was exactly what her cousin had been upset about. All of his consternation had been over her birthday gifts.

“I…” Tybalt’s voice was so low that she could barely hear it. “Couldn’t think of what to get you. I looked everywhere…”

“If you didn’t get me anything, it’s alright,” Juliet said softly, relieved and more than eager to placate her regretful cousin. “I don’t need a present from you- just having you dance with me is more than enough.”

“But that’s the thing,” Tybalt replied, one hand slipping into his pocket. “I did get you a present, only… I don’t think it’s good enough for you.”

He handed Juliet a piece of paper, which had been painstakingly folded into a perfect square. The birthday girl blinked down at it for a second, utterly baffled; then, slowly, she took the offering from her cousin’s hands and opened it up in front of her.

The many shadows, contours and finely formed lines came together to reveal a pencil sketch of a girl with long hair and eyes that shone as dark as coals. Her finely rendered face showed an expression of gentleness as she stared off into the distant somewhere, one cheek resting on her open palm; her brow was lifted in an expression of dreaminess. It was a portrait of her, Juliet realized with a start; and it was beautiful.

“You drew this?” she asked, and Tybalt nodded. Suddenly, Juliet could feel her throat begin to close up.

“Oh… Tybalt, it’s lovely. I can’t tell you how lovely it is.” There were actual tears in her eyes; Tybalt looked concerned, until the moment she flung herself around his neck, nearly knocking him off his feet in the process. _“Thank you.”_

Tybalt released a shaky breath as Juliet slowly pulled back, brushing a stray strand of unruly hair from her cousin’s face as she did so; she was beaming. “This is the nicest picture I’ve ever seen of myself; and you made it. I’ll frame it, I’ll hang it in my room, I’ll build a shrine to it- I love it, cousin. You couldn’t have gotten me a better gift.”

For the first time in a very long time, a genuine, broad grin split Tybalt’s face; Juliet mirrored his expression as he resumed turning her about the dance floor once more. She could hardly believe the fact that he thought she wouldn’t like his present; the simple fact that it came from someone she cared for so deeply, Juliet thought, should guarantee that she would love it. Sometimes her cousin really could be so baffling.

_**5\. a golden ring / mother** _

“By the way,” remarked Tybalt some time later, as what had to be at least the cousins’ third dance together drew to a close. “I think your mother wanted to speak to you.”

Juliet, panting, glanced up towards the balcony, where her mother had stood for most of the night; in her long gown, under the warm light of the ballroom, she made a striking vision. Sure enough, the blonde woman’s dark eyes were trained on her daughter, whose face fell in dismay. “Oh,” she muttered. “I wanted to dance every round tonight.”

“I’ll go tell the conductor that he can take a break,” replied Tybalt promptly. “Then you should have no problems.”

Juliet turned a grin on her cousin. “Thanks, Tyb,” she whispered, giving him a quick squeeze of hand, before turning away and weaving through the dancers towards the staircase that would lead her to her mother.

Lady Capulet was waiting for her; when she felt her daughter at her side, she turned and gave Juliet a small smile. “The birthday girl, at last,” she remarked lightly. “I was wondering when you were going to grace me with your presence.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I’ve just been having the most wonderful time with Tybalt; I didn’t mean to neglect you!”

Lady Capulet chuckled; but it didn’t go over Juliet’s head that her mother seemed nervous. The usually confident matriarch of the Capulet household had an air of uncertainty about her; she kept playing with the rings on her fingers, turning them so quickly that Juliet was worried she’d manage to sever her fingers completely.

“Are you alright, Mother?” she asked, frowning slightly. The older woman turned to her, a look of casual surprise on her face.

“Of course,” she replied, turning back to survey the crowd below. “I was just thinking… by your age I was already engaged, you know. By the time I was seventeen, I was pregnant with you. You are… very lucky, Juliet.”

“I know that,” replied Juliet earnestly, nodding her head. “I’m fortunate every day for having such a loving family and a good life.”

“Yes... “ Lady Capulet’s lips were pursed into a thin line; she still did not look at her daughter. “Nothing lasts forever, Juliet. Don’t forget that.”

Juliet’s brow furrowed; she stared down at the crowd below, her eyes absently following a figure wearing a light blue masquerade mask as he spun around the ballroom. Her mind was struggling to interpret her mother’s meaning; why would she be talking about change now? Why did so many people seem to be talking about change today? Why did it seem that they couldn’t just allow her brithday to be a peaceful one? Another thought occurred to Juliet, this one more disturbing than all the rest; could it be that her mother was trying to warn her now of some impending change in her life in the future?

Juliet shook off the troubling thought, her frown lessening slightly. The very idea was groundsless; and her mother, while a subtle woman, did not beat around the bush in matters concerning her daughter. So why would Lady Capulet be telling her this?

“I’m not going to change anytime soon,” Juliet said at last, speaking what she could only hope was the truth. “I will still be your daughter. Don’t worry, Mother.”

The corners of Lady Capulet’s lips turned up as she at last turned, cupping her daughter’s chin in her palm. “Yes,” she nodded. “But you are no longer a little girl, Juliet. You’re sixteen now.”

“It’s exciting.”

“It should be.” Lady Capulet finally gave her daughter a real, full smile. She looked nice when she smiled, Juliet thought as the last of her concerns melted away; it was a shame she didn't do it often. Her mother suddenly held out her closed hand; Juliet automatically reached out to take it, but she was stopped by Lady Capulet’s continuing speech. “When I turned sixteen, you know, just like you, my mother gave me a ring. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry; finely melded gold, with a garnet in the center shaped like a heart. It had two pink gems, on either side of the middle stone, and an engraving: _‘To my precious child.’_ Juliet, I remember thinking it was the most _beautiful_ thing I had ever seen.”

Juliet’s eyes searched her mother’s fingers; she could see no hint of the fabled ring. “You won’t find it,” Lady Capulet added, noticing where her daughter was focused. “On my wedding night, I threw it into the sea. I was no longer a child.”

Juliet slowly raised her head to look at her mother again; Lady Capulet wore a gentle expression that was entirely unsuited to her rather stern features. “For you, my Juliet, my summer rose…” Finally, she allowed her hand to open. Juliet’s eyes widened; in her palm rested a golden ring, fixed in the center with a purple stone and framed on the sides with two more little red gems.

Gently, she plucked the ring from her mother’s palm; on the back, she could just read the small engraving. _“To my precious child,”_ she read aloud, and then looked back up at her mother with wide eyes. She found herself at a loss for words.

“May your childhood,” Lady Capulet sighed, placing a gentle kiss on her daughter’s head, “last a bit longer than mine did.”

_**5.5. an extra gift / three dances** _

Juliet managed to get back on the floor just before the next dance was due to start; she hadn’t missed any songs talking to her mother, thanks to Tybalt’s fortunate intervention. However, with her new ring on her finger, as her eyes scanned the room she found that she couldn’t spot her cousin anywhere. He seemed to have run off again, to her great dismay; she had been so hoping to spend the rest of the night with him, thus avoiding having to dance with clumsy uncles and obnoxious cousins.

As the first strains of music drifted through the air, she began to search around the room for a partner; when, rather unexpectedly, she was suddenly caught by the arm and spun around to face a white feathered masquerade mask.

“Might I have this dance?” the man in the mask spoke, and almost immediately Juliet could tell that his voice was familiar; yet she could not put a face to the voice she was sure she knew. Her interest piqued, she obligingly granted him her hand and allowed him to lead her into the sea of dancers. 

Her white-clad partner moved with a charming sort of clumsiness as he picked up the dance. Behind the bejeweled mask, dark hair was visible; hazel eyes watched her through silver-outlined vision-holes. But other than that she could gather nothing about her unusual dance mate. She ventured for conversation, instead, her suspicions raised that she was quite familiar with this person already.

“What an intriguing figure you make in your mask, sir. My intrigue is raised.”

“You look enchanting tonight yourself,” replied her partner, a hint of amusement lacing his tone

She quirked an eyebrow. “And might I not have the name of my charming partner?”

“Hardly charming; and I won’t be your partner for long, I can assure you. Besides…” Below the mask, a grin spread across the young man’s face, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “I’m sure you can figure out exactly who I am with little effort.”

Juliet allowed herself to be twirled, pursing her lips in the effort to keep from laughing aloud. When she was back in her partner’s arms, however, she allowed her grin to mirror his own. “So,” she said, “whose idea was this?”

“Not mine, I assure you,” he replied. “It did take some clever maneuvering, but we managed to accomplish our task quite well.”

“Anything to greet the sun on her birthday,” cut in another voice, and both dancers looked up in surprise to see a fully unmasked figure- none other than the prince’s oldest nephew, clad in characteristically loud colors of bright purple and gold silk. Mercutio extended a hand towards the couple, giving the white-masked stranger an acknowledging nod before turning to Juliet. “If I may?”

“Certainly, sir,” replied the Capulet girl, taking Mercutio’s rougher hand in her own. Almost immediately she was spun away, the young royal wasting no time in sending her for twirls and loops that left her breathless. Whereas her first unexpected partner had been calmer, hesitant, almost clumsy in his movements, Mercutio was bold; he barely gave Juliet time to catch her breath before sending her spinning again.

“You’re going to tire me out,” gasped Juliet during one of the brief slow areas of the song; her face was flushed, but her eyes were alight with eagerness at the scheme unfolding before her.

“You’re correct,” Mercutio laughed. “I feel something so dire might incur the wrath of one I really have no desire to provoke; after all the three of us went through to get in here, allowing you to drop of exhaustion now would seem a waste.”

This was a question Juliet had asked herself more than once since her first partner had taken her hand. “How did you get into my party? You, I know, had a ticket; but it is strictly invite only.”

Mercutio only grinned charmingly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “My uncle and brother send their apologies; the prince was too busy to attend, and I fear my brother’s ticket may have been… misplaced.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh,” Mercutio chuckled, “but I did. Happy birthday, Juliet. And on that note-” The young Capulet barely had time to register the wicked grin that had spread across her dance partner’s face, “I believe the moment we’ve all been waiting for has arrived. Here comes your toad, dressed as a prince. Be careful that he doesn’t turn back when you close your eyes.”

The next second, Juliet found herself being twirled once more; only this time Mercutio had neglected to hold on to her. She was sent spinning like a top, reeling helplessly through the masses of dancing couples while somehow deftly managing to avoid colliding with any of them. Just when a hard impact with the wall seemed inevitable, however, strong arms suddenly caught her by the shoulders, stopping her in her dizzying tracks. She found herself at once face to face with a sky blue masquerade mask.

“Romeo,” she breathed, a warm smile unconsciously taking over her face. Her expression was mirrored by her savior; and he held still in order to allow Juliet to lift his mask just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.

“I don’t care what either of those two clowns told you,” he said as he gently took Juliet’s hands, taking up the lead in the waltz that had just begun. “This was all my idea.”

Juliet curtsied to her partner and the dance began; they both reeled across the floor, sidestepping each other’s feet, nearly tripping more than once (to both dancers’ infinite delight). When Romeo twirled her around, Juliet spun him right back; then, laughingly, they would join together again, hands linked and faces inches apart as their steps resumed. More than once, Juliet was sure that her lover was about to kiss her; but in the center of the crowded Capulet ballroom, she knew that it would be far too risky.

She hadn’t had this much fun all night, not even dancing with Tybalt; if she could spend the rest of her birthday in Romeo’s arms, then she never wanted the night to end.

And she did spend the remaining hours of the ball right by his side; together they fulfilled her wish of dancing each dance, and Romeo was even obliging enough to let her take the lead more than once. By the end of the night, as the last song was winding down, they both were drifting, exhausted, in the safety of each other’s arms.

“This,” Juliet leaned up and whispered in her love’s ear, was the best present I could have asked for.“  
.  
"Oh?” Romeo’s chest rumbled with a chuckle that made Juliet’s heart beat just a little faster. “But _this_ isn’t my gift to you.”

_**6\. a set of books / mercutio + benvolio** _

She was almost ready to close the doors to her balcony and slip back inside when she suddenly caught sight of a figure on the ground; blond hair, a blue vest, and a box nearly as big as his head clutched in his arms. Her eyes lit up with eagerness; her face split into a wide grin.

“You still look beautiful,” Romeo called up to her, and Juliet giggled.

“You are mad, you know that? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking-” Romeo cut himself off with a grunt, struggling to hoist himself up the trellis while clutching the box in his arms; this gift wasn’t wrapped, and inside the box Juliet could see what looked like a neatly arranged stack of books. With an unmeasured eagerness that didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she was getting new books whatsoever, she reached out and relieved Romeo of his burden, allowing him to climb the rest of the way in peace- and for her to see exactly what her new gift had in store.

_“The Simple Times!”_ she exclaimed in delight, practically spinning around the balcony with the set of books clutched in her arms. “Romeo, Romeo, they’re in hardcover as well!”

“Those are from Mercutio and Benvolio.”

Of course. She had told Benvolio before, when they had gotten into a conversation on favorite books, that she adored The Simple Times as one of her favorite series. Not only had he remembered, he and Mercutio had actually gone out and gotten the full set for her- and in hardcover, as well. It was hardly the most extravagant gift she’s been given today, but Juliet had to admit that it was a touching one.

Then her eyes drifted to Romeo, who was standing in the doorway to her bedroom visibly buzzing with anticipation. She half-smiled at the antics of her boyfriend, who was obviously so excited to give her his gift that he could hardly stand it; though it was risky, she gestured to him to come into her room and sat down on her billowy canopy bed, patting the spot next to her for him to join her. He obliged, gladly, and gave her a shy grin and he opened the bag next to him.

“I didn’t want to ask my parents for money, so I couldn’t afford much,” Romeo said slowly, taking his time searching through the bag. After what seemed like hours he finally withdrew a long, slender white box that was roughly the size of his hand. After passing it off to Juliet, taking care not to drop it, he leaned back and watched her anxiously. “I spent a long time trying to find just the right thing; I hope you like your gift as much as I do.”

_**7\. a silver locket / romeo** _

“Oh.” Juliet held the silver chain up in the air, transfixed by the tiny half of a heart that dangled like a Christmas ornament. The charm caught the light from her bedroom tantalizingly, casting a flicker of a reflection on her white bedsheets. Juliet’s eyes gleamed with tears.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh,” she repeated, holding the necklace close to her chest. “Oh. Oh! Romeo! It’s lovely! I can’t tell you how much I love it!”

At her enthusiastic words, Romeo beamed, and the joy on his face was infectious. “I gave the other half to Mercutio.”

Juliet stopped. She stared.

“Just kidding!” Romeo exclaimed quickly, and his hand slipped beneath his shirt only to withdraw a second silver chain, this one cast around his own neck. Juliet reached out and took Romeo’s heart in her hands, joining it with her own. She heard a soft click; they were a perfect match.

“Romeo,” she sighed, throwing her arms around his neck. Her boyfriend let out a noise of surprise that quickly turned into a laugh, and smoothly he picked her up by the waist and spun her around before throwing her back on her bed. Juliet bounced once on the mattress before Romeo was on top of her, his lips against hers and his hands warm as they eased their way down her bare arms, over her shoulders, her back, her thighs… touching her wherever he could. She did the same, her hands exploring his hair and neck as his body pressed down on top of hers; and for a long time afterwards, the two of them remained lost in each other.

_**8\. a rose / herself** _

It was long after Romeo had taken his leave, and the sun was just starting to rise up over the hills that towered over little Verona; Juliet watched it pensively, leaning on one hand as the other stroked through her long, dark hair. For all the birthday presents she had gotten that day, every last one meaningful and wonderful in a different way, she couldn’t help but recall the wish of that morning. She had wished for change; change in her parents, and change in herself.

Yet the words of the Nurse still refrained in her head, as clearly as they had the first time she heard them. And she could remember how she had distinctly thought to herself that she didn’t want to change; indeed, after such a perfect night it pained her to imagine that life could ever change at all. The idea that her world would one day not consist of whispered secrets with Rosaline, long talks with Tybalt, teasing with the Nurse, distant affection between her and her parents, her illicit romance with Romeo- it was inevitable, but it was also frightening, and terribly, terribly sad.

Juliet didn’t want things to change; even though she knew that they would. Change was just so frightening; and now, another year older, she realized that she had absolutely no clue what the next year would bring, or what type of person she would be on the day she turned seventeen. Would she still love Romeo? Would her parents still see her as their “little girl”? Would she still have that characteristic goodness which her Nurse had been so proud of?

Juliet didn’t know. Gently, she plucked a rose from one of the plants that twined along her trellis, decorating her balcony with color in the daytime; this rose, she thought as she studied its pink hue in the slowly rising sun, would be a gift to herself. It would encourage her, and remind her too; just because her life and she herself were someday destined to change, that didn’t mean that in a year from now they wouldn’t have changed for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so late, but so long! I'm sorry I couldn't get this out sooner, and I've neglected my latest multichapter Patrilineal (first chapter will be up tomorrow) to work on this. But it was my queen's birthday and I had to give her a worthy celebration!


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